


Cirrostratus

by slartibartfast



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-06
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slartibartfast/pseuds/slartibartfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt: What I'd really love would be a Fred/Wesley/Gunn fic. It doesn't necessarily have to be sexual (though, that's okay, too), just something more with the day-to-day in their life while being in a poly relationship. Maybe a little "we know we want this, but it's still kind of weird" between Wes and Gunn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cirrostratus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



Their kitchen isn't big enough, not really. Fred had thought it would be when they chose the apartment, eyeing the sleek black counters and the wide floor, the tall window that spilled golden light into the room at sunset. She hadn't expected all three of them to spend much time in the room anyway; she assumed they would form some kind of schedule for cooking stuck up on the silver fridge with a smiley-face magnet. That was the way she had imagined everything would work between them, with everything in its place and everything organized.

She was wrong.

The reality was much more jagged. There was only one shower and more often than not they would end up bickering over it, little spiteful arguments where Charles would get angry and impatient, Wesley would go silent and cold, and Fred would try to patch it up. In moments like that she felt as though she was the only thing holding the two of them together.

She was wrong about that, too, but sometimes it felt real, and feelings can't be ignored even for flawless logic.

In the kitchen it was the worst though. Fred would be making a sandwich or a lasagna and Charles and Wesley would invade, guns all but drawn, caught in the middle of some stupid argument over paperwork. She would stand with her back to them, listening but not intruding, until it got to the point where Wesley's voice got low and gravelly like his scar was cut open once more and then she would turn.

The kitchen wasn't big enough for them when they all stood so close. Maybe _they_ were too big for the kitchen. Maybe this feeling in Fred's heart made it impossibly huge.

"Fred, please, tell this joker he's got it wrong," Charles pleaded on one occasion, turning to her. There was a smile touching his lips. Fred realized he didn't know he was upsetting Wesley and her heart softened, ached in that potent way it always did around the two of them.

Still, Fred wasn't softened enough. "How should I know?" she snapped.

And silence fell and the air turned sour and Wesley and Charles left her alone. The kitchen felt vast and empty without their bickering.

-

For a while, Wesley still called him Gunn. It made Fred uncomfortable, like there was that barrier still up between them. Like they were both there for _her_, because _she_ asked it, not for each other.

(Even if it wasn't Fred who asked. It was Wesley. She forgot that sometimes, that hesitation in his voice, that desperate uncertainty that he couldn't shake off even when she took both their hands and grinned.)

But one day, maybe a week after the first playful argument about how best to share a bed, it changed.

"Charles, would you fetch the book on Tibetan botany?" Wesley called from the living room, his voice curling luxuriously around the name. It was spoken with a practiced casualness and he caught Fred's eye a second later, even as he turned his voice towards the bedroom, towards Charles. "I believe it's on the shelf opposite the bed."

Fred's heart skipped a beat or five, pulse turning arrhythmic and unsteady as Wesley held her gaze. There was something here, something she couldn't quite touch, something she'd been waiting for…

"What do you need this for?" Charles asked, turning the crusty old book over in his hands. It wasn't teasing, it wasn't scoffing, it was nothing but a quiet question and a look of vague interest. Oh how things could change when Fred was too busy staring down the details.

Wesley stood to take it, smiling. "For a case. Some more intricate spells require unorthodox ingredients. I need to look something up."

They took place side-by-side on the sofa with the high back, legs touching. Fred could go over there, sit beside them and curl up close, but she was too fascinated by watching them. Charles's face always went a little squinty when he was considering affection, she knew. Like maybe Wesley would turn him away after all this. His face creased and Fred leaned forward in her seat.

The book was on Wesley's knees, open to a page where a spindly, spiky plant contrasted against the dust-brown of the background. He had his head tipped forward to inspect something more closely. Like a warm breath, Charles kissed the skin of his neck, a lingering touch.

Fred stirred in her seat and bit her lip as she watched Wesley's eyes close in something like rapture.

The moment was over almost before it started, and yet it lingered.

\---

They took turns being in the middle of the bed. It was the best place to be in the cooler months, warmed on both sides and wrapped up safely between two beating hearts. It was the only place in the house where they _did_ have a schedule, unspoken but followed like a religion. Better than a religion, because this was something they could believe in. This was something that couldn't be tainted and erased by the darkness they saw each day.

Tonight it was Wesley's turn. Fred was on the right, Charles on the left, and they were tangled together completely. Fred could feel the moment when Charles pushed into Wesley in the slow rumble of pleasure in his chest, the shift of him deeper inside of her.

They shouldn't fit. There could never be enough space in the world for this much feeling and it was all crammed into Fred's slender body, pulsing and amazing and overwhelming. Charles's fingers dug into Wesley's ribs greedily. Wesley's eyes were wide open but unseeing, glimmering and sparking in disbelief at this perfect onslaught.

They shouldn't fit, but they did.

Fred felt as high as the clouds, cirrostratus, low density and high humidity. She felt thrown into the air like nothing at all.

What goes up must come down. Fred had always known that, but at least now they'd have each other to break their fall.


End file.
